“You hear what you are bidden to do,” said the miller to the boy, but he spoke rather unwillingly. And Charles crept off, daring no longer to disobey.
“Ah, now,” said Mistress Speedwell, when he returned with his brown cheeks shining like a warming-pan with the rubbing she had bidden him not to be sparing of, and a deep flush from brow to chin, “now we can look truth in the face,” and she was satisfied, and settled quietly to her wheel; and Molly, who had been sorely disheartened to hear her playmate scolded, smiled delightedly. She thought it was the nicest boy’s face she had ever seen; but the miller looked graver than ever, and only said “Umph!” as he glanced over some letters he had received that day, and then sat gazing in a very troubled manner into the fire.
The next evening soon after dark a solemn-looking, plainly-attired gentleman rode up to the gate of the cottage and asked to see Master John Speedwell. He was shown into the best room, where he kept the miller talking for more than an hour, but the interview did not appear to have been very satisfactory to the visitor, who said to Speedwell, as he went away, “I trust that you will come to see the error of your resolve. And,” he went on, when the miller made no reply, “seeing that you are not rich——”
“No, I am a poor man,” said the miller, “but I hope always to remain an honorable man, and I will give up the boy for no money price.”
“Not even in the good cause?” scowled the stranger.
“The cause would be no longer good were I to do this that you seek of me. So fare you well, sir, for by my honor, which I have always kept bright and fair, I will deliver the boy only into the hands to whom he belongs.”
“Well,” said the stranger, in deeply-angered tones, “you know what to expect—I have warned you.”
“And though my house be stormed, and you should be able to kidnap the boy—which I much doubt you shall succeed in doing—I abide by what I have said,” replied the miller.
And so the stranger mounted his horse again, muttering and grumbling till he was gone out of sight.
Then the miller returned to the kitchen, and sat down by the fire alone. The rest of the little household were all abed. He listened intently. For a long time there was no sound but the brisk night wind stirring round the house, but as the village church-clock struck eleven, there came a low tap on the lattice. The miller rose, and, drawing aside the curtain, said in a low tone as he opened the lattice, “Are you ready?”